


Be Alright

by HelloTragic, Lilah_James



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloTragic/pseuds/HelloTragic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilah_James/pseuds/Lilah_James
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one phone call to completely turn our lives upside down.He'd left. That was all she'd known. He'd packed up in the middle of the night after a stupid fight, leaving no trace behind of where he'd gone. But when David's phone rang one night telling them that Killian was in a hospital in Boston, everything changed. For Emma, it was the last call she ever expected and it meant facing the ghosts of her past and releasing everything she'd kept bottled up and hidden away.But then again sometimes it's the tragedies in our lives that finally let us feel again.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Once fam. I hope you enjoy.

 

It was strange being there. A newness that left Emma feeling uneasy. It made sense that her brother and sister-in-law had chosen to purchase a larger place considering the newest little Nolan would eventually want a room of his own. The new house wasn’t very large or fancy, but it _was_ in a safe neighborhood and that alone had been worth maxing out their budget according to David. Ever the vigilant protector.

 

Emma Swan had never been one to believe in ghosts. Not literally at least. Weird knocking noises were almost always just old pipes. The scratching noise against the window in the bedroom was probably just a tree branch. But she did believe in the ghosts of memories. People were always abandoning her, always leaving her with the phantom of themselves. The fleeting feeling of what had been, of what could have been. But there, in that new house, there was nothing, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Not when it meant _his_ ghost wasn’t there anymore.

 

“So, how are things with Graham?”

 

“Jesus, a little warning next time would be nice.” Emma sputtered out, trying not to spill her cocoa out on the new dining table.

 

The conversation up until that point had been relaxed. Mary Margaret discussing the field trip she was planning on taking all of her children on the following week. Emma filling in the holes with gossip about Leroy’s latest arrest after drunkenly trying to serenade one of the nuns in the middle of the night. Then out of nowhere the conversation shifted, nearly taking her head off from the whiplash.

 

“I didn’t mean to startle you. You guy have been dating for what, almost a year now?”

 

Emma gave her sister-in-law a non commentmental shrug.

 

“I heard he asked you to move it with him.”

 

Emma shrugged once again, hoping to avoid the inevitable.

 

“You know, you haven’t seriously dated in years, and Graham is just such a wonderful guy. I’m not sure why you’re holding back. I mean, I know that everything with Neal left a scar, but not every guy is him, Emma.”

 

“Margs, I’m not holding back as you put it. I’m just going slowly. A year isn’t actually that long for most people.”

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d had the conversation, and probably wouldn’t be the last either, but Emma’s patience had been especially low that day.

 

“I know, sweetie. I just worry about you. That’s all. Graham isn’t going to wait around forever.”

 

It was the last straw, the final thread holding her together.

 

Emma opened her mouth to launch into Mary Margaret and her overly optimistic view of life but was interrupted by cries coming from the next room. Closing her eyes to calm herself, she listened to the shuffling footsteps leaving the room.

 

Mary Margaret cooed against the baby as she found her way back to the kitchen so she could finish preparing their dinner. The next thirty minutes were spent in relative silence as Emma felt every piece of herself wanting to flee back to the safety of her own apartment. They passed baby Leo back and forth but barely said more than two words until David arrived home and it was finally time to sit down and eat.

 

The dinner was filled with tension on Emma’s part. David seemed none-the-wiser as he told them about the new computers he had ordered for the station. Her entire body felt on edge as she tried to banter back with him about how much time they’d save filling out reports on the new ones. Mary Margaret asked her twice if she was feeling alright after noticing the way she’d been pushing her food around her plate rather than eating it.

 

She hadn’t had much of an appetite at all that day, but explaining that to them would have only lead to questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Instead she did her best to plaster on a smile and take small bites, forcing herself to swallow the food in front of her. She pretended to be fine, just as she’d always done, but as David brought up having seen Graham earlier that day, the scales tipped and not in Emma’s favor.

 

“He said he hasn’t heard from you all week, Ems.”

 

“And your point?”

 

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe that you should talk to him rather than just leaving him hanging. That maybe-”

 

“First off,” Emma started, “I didn’t leave him hanging. He asked me to make this big huge life change and I told him that I needed some time to think it over. And that’s what I’m doing. Thinking about it.”

 

She stood, ignoring the way the chair scrapped across the wooden floors behind her.

 

“And _my_ romantic life is none of your business. Either of yours.”

 

David had the foresight to look properly chagrined, but Mary Margaret wasn’t quite as ready to let it rest.

 

“Emma! We’re both just looking out for you. You have these walls and you try to block everyone out and it’s not fair to those of us that love you.”

 

She was about to respond but her rebuttal was cut short by the wailing of David’s work phone, and Emma silently prayed that whatever it was would be enough to end dinner early.

 

“Nolan.”

 

Emma watched as the exasperated face he’d been sporting shifted to something more serious as he stood and walked out of the room, signaling to both women to stay put. Neither of them spoke until David reemerged a few minutes later, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Emma could see an address on it, some place in Boston.

 

He was visibly shaken by the call.

 

“David, what is it? Who was on the phone?”

 

He took a deep breath and Emma immediately felt a tug deep in her stomach. In the time she’d known him, in the decade since his mother had welcomed her into their home with welcome eyes, she’d seen his stoicism. The way he remained calm in tough situations. How very few things ever rattled him.

 

“That was a friend from the Boston PD. He uh, he called to tell me that Killian’s been in a bad accident. That he’s in the hospital and they’re preparing him for surgery.”

 

She was falling, the kind of falling that left you breathless when you hit the ground. The air whooshed from her lungs, leaving a sickly burning sensation in it’s wake. But somehow, she was still standing.

 

“Oh, David. Did they say anything else?”

 

Emma listened, unable to form words of her own.

 

“No, not really. I guess they found my number under his emergency contacts in his phone.”

 

She stood, unmoving, unfeeling, simply detached as they started making plans to head down to Boston. Mary Margaret packed a bag for both her and David, while he started dressing Leo for the cold winter air. It wasn’t until they were completely ready almost to the door when Emma finally snapped out of it.

 

“Wait, you guys should just leave Leo here with me.”

 

Both of them looked at each other, mouths agape, stunned that she’d chosen not to join them.

 

“Guys, it’s a five hour drive on a good day, and there’s no telling how much ice is on the roads out there. Plus then you’ll spend heaven knows how long in a hospital waiting room. That’s too much sitting around for him and he’ll just end up getting restless.”

 

As sure as she was that Mary Margaret wanted to argue against her, Emma could see the resignation in David’s eyes.

 

“She’s right, and the last thing either of us needs right now is for him to pick up something in the hospital.”

 

“Margs, I’ve got him. He’ll be fine here with me.”

 

Mary Margaret hesitated before handing the ten month old off to her, promising to call and check in with them every few hours.

 

The night progressed slowly. Emma tried to keep her thoughts focused on her nephew as she changed him back into his pajamas and fed him one last time. But eventually he drifted off to sleep for the night, and Emma was forced to place him in his crib, losing the only distraction she had left.

 

Emma showered and borrowed some clothes from Mary Margaret’s dresser, before cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. Unwilling let her mind drift back to him, she made her way to the couch and turned on netflix, settling on an episode of The Office that she’d seen dozens of times already. Sometime around the end of season two though, it became too hard to focus on and she switched to a recording of Rizzoli and Isles on the DVR.

 

She was just drifting off to sleep when her phone went off, causing her to bolt upright. It was David telling her that they’d finally made it to the hospital and that Killian was still in surgery.  There had been a car accident about three miles from Killian’s apartment. Someone had hit a patch of black ice and spun out into oncoming traffic. David left her with an unsolicited promised to call and update her when they found out more.

 

Everything she’d been holding back finally overpowered her and the damn broke.

 

* * *

 

 

_One year earlier:_

 

There was no other word to describe it than mind blowing. The way he knew her body, how to hit every spot that made her eyes clamp shut and stars cloud her brain. For two years he'd been surprising her over and over again with his prowess, but that's all it had ever been. Two ships passing in the night. No emotions, no expectations. Or that's what she let herself believe.

 

There had been an immediate attraction, but at the time he'd been David’s best friend and roommate, and she'd - well she'd been broken. The pain of Neal's betrayal had left her raw and exposed, and it had destroyed her ability to trust people. So they started as friends, not that that had been an accurate portrayal either.

 

In the beginning, they'd been nothing more than acquaintances. She'd only see him when she went to visit David, or when they went out as a large group to get food. During college, it had been easy to keep her distance from him. She wasn't old enough to go out to the bars with her brother, so she'd stayed in and studied. Occasionally, she'd spy him at a frat party, often on the arm of yet another girl in an ever present stream of women. She'd never had to think about him for long though, grabbing a hold of the first slightly attractive man she could find to help her scratch an itch for the night.

 

It was better that way. Finding strangers for one night stands. No messy attachments, no worrying about what would come next or how they could disappoint her. During her senior year though, David had started dragging her out with him, his work schedule permitting, and where David went, Killian followed with his cocky swagger and bravado. His innuendo never failed to make her blush.

 

After graduation, they’d all moved back to Storybrooke to help with an ailing Ruth. She and David had take up jobs as deputies at the local sheriff station, and David’s fiance had just started at the elementary school. Killian had opened his own business as an artisan boat builder. Everything he’d created was with wood he’d personally sourced and approved. Each boat was different and beautiful. He’d had a way about him, everything he touched turned to gold.

 

Somehow over the years, the four of them had become more than just friends and acquaintances. They’d become a family.

 

She kissed him first. A night of drinking lowering her inhibitions. He’d kissed her back though, both of them wanting more than the privacy that David and Mary Margaret’s kitchen could provide them given all of the people milling about in Halloween costumes. He’d followed her home than night, and hadn’t left until the morning.

 

Two years of stolen nights and hidden rendezvous. Two years of her only sleeping with him. Two years of yearning for what they had to be real. Two years of her wanting to tell him that _they_ meant something. Two years of her being too afraid he’d leave if he found out.

 

“That was,” she panted out.

 

“Ya, it was.”

 

She looked over to see him watching her, his smile bright and cheerful as he tried to regain his breathe.

 

“So, will I see you tonight?”

 

“It _is_ tonight.”

 

He barked out a laugh.

 

“Technically, Swan, it’s morning, and you knew what I meant.”

 

“I can’t, I uh- have a date with Graham.” Emma grimaced.

 

She felt the tension fill the room around them.

 

“I see. And this would be date number two, correct?”

 

“Ya, but it’s-”

 

Killian rolled away and stood from the bed, collecting his boxers and pants, dressing at a quicker pace than usual.

 

“Wait, where are you going?”

 

“I have an early day tomorrow. I best be getting home.”

 

She new it was a lie. He’d never willing left her bed before morning. She’d even gone so far as to call him on it, which had been a mistake. The beginning of the end.

 

They fought and screamed. He’d been furious with her. The thing between them, never discussed for fear of how fragile it was,  had exploded. She’d pointed out that they weren’t in fact together so her personal life wasn’t his concern, a defensive argument that she knew wasn’t true. He’d fumed, reminding her that they only reason they weren’t together was because she’d always been so adamant about how she didn’t _do_ relationships, but maybe she’d just meant that she didn’t want one with _him_. She should have told him then, but she’d had too much pride, and instead she’d let him walk away.

 

And then he’d stormed out, and she hadn’t seen him since. Two days later his apartment had been completely emptied out, along with his rented warehouse. He’d left her, the same way everyone else had.

 

* * *

 

 

She barely managed to sleep that night, all of her feelings assaulting her senses. His face, his smell, the small lilt in his voice that became more pronounced when he drank his rum. She’d cried until there were no tears left, and still, she wept, unable to stop, forcing her face into the pillow so that her wracking sobs wouldn’t wake the baby in the next room. Every ounce of strength she had left fled her body, and when she had nothing left to cry, her body curled in on itself of it’s own accord.

 

She tossed and turned until the first rays of light began to filter through the windows, and it was only then that the exhaustion was finally able to beat away her restless mind, allowing her to sleep. It was short lived though, as she woke to muffled voices calling her name from the living room.

 

Slowly she sat up, taking in the early hour on the clock before dragging her fatigued body from the bed. David and Mary Margaret had decided to head back home early in the morning after the news had warned of an impending snow storm. It was supposed to be the snowfall of the ages and they were both worried that they’d be trapped in Boston if they stayed much longer. They hadn’t seen Killian, but the surgeons had updated them that he was in stable condition.

 

They both lamented over not getting to see him, but the emotional toll the night had taken on them had both of them longing to see their son, and neither wanted to be away from him waiting for a storm to pass. Instead, they decided to head up to Boston the following weekend to check in on him, and had plans to send him flowers as soon as they’d learned his room number.

 

If either of them had noticed the blotchiness on Emma’s face or the dark circles under her eyes, they’d kept it to themselves. David made his way into the kitchen where he started breakfast as Mary Margaret went to check on Leo, who was still sleeping peacefully. They invited her to stay for breakfast but her stomach was still in knots, and she knew that if she’d tried to eat anything, it wouldn’t stay down for long, so she declined, telling them that she needed to get ready for the storm.

 

Their quaint little town was perfect most times, but when storms came through, everything shut down like it was the apocalypse. The grocery stores would be empty and if you weren’t prepared, you’d starve waiting for the snow to lighten up. She used to go to _his_ apartment on days like that. He was always so good about picking up extra food, always grabbing a few boxes of poptarts for her. He’d even make sure to park his truck in the street so she could have his covered parking space.

 

He did a lot of things for her, things she’d always taken for granted. The new robe, her favorite wine ever present in the fridge, the copy of Princess Bride that appeared on his coffee table two nights after the town wide internet outage. She’d just been too stubborn to see it at the time, holding on to the idea of them not dating. That if they weren’t officially together, then she couldn’t get her heart broken.

 

_God, she’d been such an idiot._

 

Barely sparing a minute to put her cold groceries away in the fridge, Emma ran to her room, collected a random assortment of clothes and shoved them in a bag, along with her phone charger. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was back in her old bug, braving the highway to Boston. The snow began falling about an hour outside of the city, but she pushed through, making it to the hospital just before the worst of the storm.

 

It took some time to find his room, having been originally sent to see a Kameron Jones first. When she finally found him, she braced herself for a moment, willing her heart to stop pounding and her stomach to settle. It had been exactly one year since she’d opened his apartment door to find him gone. The irony of the date not lost on her as she forced the old wooden door open.

 

The were machines everywhere, she almost didn’t see him at first, too overwhelmed by everything around him. She almost missed the nurse as well.

 

“Oh, I can, uh, come back later.”

 

“No, no, stay. I’m just taking his vitals. He’s still pretty sedated and it’ll be a few hours before he wakes up. Are you family?”

 

Emma wasn’t sure how to answer the questions. A year ago the answer would have be a resounding yes, but now, now they were practically strangers.

 

“Old family friend.”

 

The nurse just smiled as she typed away into the computer on the wall.

 

“Well that’s good. He’s going to need all of the support he can get when he wakes up.”

 

Emma looked him over. His left hand was hidden away under a massive bandage, and his face had a few bruises, but he didn’t appear to be too beaten up otherwise.

 

“Is he going to be alright?”

 

“Oh, physically yes. From what I understand the impact was on the other side of the car. His hand got caught between the door and steering wheel unfortunately. The doctors did their best to salvage it, but only time will tell. We’ll keep a close eye on it’s coloring though”

 

The nurse must have sensed that Emma needed time herself to process everything.

 

“Oh, and just to let you know, we haven’t told him about his wife’s passing yet.”

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of National Pancake Day...

 

 

_She clung to him, the warmth of his body shielding her from the cold air. Her shirt lost somewhere in his living room, her bra in the hallway. In the six months they’d been sleeping together, he’d always been so adept at removing the buttons and clasps holding her clothes together. She’d always heard stories in college from his conquests on how gifted he was, but experiencing him for herself had been something entirely different. Just his breath on her shoulder blade was enough to leave her a trembling mess._

 

_The first few months had been pure passion. They couldn’t get enough of each other, despite their best attempts to stay apart. He’d arrive at her door and before she could even get out the word hello, he’d be on her. Mouths fused, teeth scraping against the skin of her neck. He’d leave marks all over her body, just as she’d leave scratches on his back._

 

_They’d excuse themselves early from family dinners. Cancel plans with friends at the last minute. They’d even called in sick a time or two from work. A primal need to be connected. But at the end of every escapade, one of them would leave, returning to their own apartment. An emotional detachment ever present, just the way Emma preferred it. Can’t get left if you’re already halfway out the door yourself._

 

_And although months had passed, their hunger for each other hadn’t faded, but it had changed. Killian began to take his time with her, making sure to massage her shoulders after a particularly hard day. He’d have dinner waiting for her if she had a late shift. He’d undress her slowly, letting his tongue and lips taste every inch of her body, working her higher and higher as he went. He’d whisper her in ear, trail his fingertips up and down her torso and legs._

 

_When he took her, it was slower, more meaningful. She’d felt the shift. He wasn’t just fucking her anymore. No. He made love to her, and while he’d never say the words out loud first, he made sure she felt it. He’d stay the night, his arm on her hip, her cheek on his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart. And she’d stay too._

 

_They fought occasionally over their arrangement. Killian wanted to court her, she wanted things to stay as they were. Undefined. It was one of those fights that led to the words slipping from her lips. Something she couldn’t take back, despite how her gut clenched at the idea of him knowing how much power he held._

 

_That had been the end of of their squabble. He’d let his mouth and hands do the rest. He taken her in his arms, undressing her along the way. She’d told him all of the things she wanted him to do to her. A distraction. He’d always loved the dirty talk. She was just building to her high again when he finally spoke._

  
  


_“Say it again.” His voice was low, strained._

 

_“Say what again?” She’d already whispered so many filthy things in his ear that night._

 

_“Emma,” the use of her first name made her breath hitch. “Say it again.”_

 

_She watched the way his eyes changed. The hunger giving way to something more. His ministrations slowed, his fingers tracing a path up her torso until his hand sat perched just above her heart. Killian’s eyes never left hers and she knew._

 

_“I love you.”_

 

_He drove back into her, hitting that spot that always caused her to see stars. It was almost too much, and not enough at the same time. He came just after her, the straining cords in his neck apparent as he gave a grunt before collapsing. The full weight of his body on hers. They stayed like that, quiet filling the room around them until he rose, heading to the bathroom. Killian returned with a washcloth and once both of them had cleaned up enough to feel comfortable sleeping, they curled back up next to each other. Slumber calling her name._

 

_“I love you too, Swan. More than words could ever do justice.” She’d almost been asleep, unsure if his words had been real or a dream, but he’d kissed her temple and held her just a bit tighter. He loved her._

 

* * *

 

 

She woke with a start. Machines blaring all around her. Nurses rushing into the room. Instinctively she stood up, backing into the corner to give them more room to work, listening to every word they said.

> _Page Doctor LaHenge._
> 
> _He’s burning up._
> 
> _Check his bandage._
> 
> _We need to get him into surgery now._

His bed was rushed from the room and Emma was left there, all alone.

Again.

She stayed there, melding into the awful yellow wall paint, tears stinging her eyes, unsure of what else to do. Minutes passed, feeling like hours before the nurse that had let her into the room on that first day returned. The same nurse that had watched her have a near meltdown upon seeing him. Upon hearing that he had a wife.

Emma had barely even been able to stay in the room. The weight of the woman’s words hitting her at full force. He’d moved on. He’d left her and fucking moved on. In less than a year he’d made a whole new life. He’d fucking married someone, and she was still mourning him.

No. There was no way. He loved her. He’d told her as much every damn day. He couldn’t have moved on that fast.

It took all of her strength to plant her feet. To not run. But as she looked at him again, seeing how small and frail he looked, she sat next to him and took his good hand. She’d stayed awake for as long as she could, but it was late, and she just couldn’t fight anymore.

Two more days passed. Nurses came and went. Doctors came and went, speaking in gibberish. They changed out the bandages. His hand had been completely mangled. She’d heard the first nurse tell her as much, but it wasn’t until she saw for herself that she realized just how bad it was. They checked his temperature constantly. The blood pressure machine had been set to go off every fifteen minutes, sometimes startling her awake in the middle of the night.

Emma did the best she could to bathe in the bathroom using washcloths and hand soap that left her skin dry. Someone was nice enough to give her a toothbrush and toothpaste from the hospital supply closet. She had food delivered to the room twice, but both times she’d been unable to eat, too worried about Killian and why he hadn’t woken up yet.

But if she could take it back. If she could have him lying there peacefully in front of her again she would.

“It’s going to be awhile dear. They’ve taken him back into surgery.” The nurse stayed and explained that unfortunately, the original surgery to repair and graft his hand didn’t seem to have taken. The blood flow to his hand had been compromised. That when she looked under the bandage everything had turned black.

They were worried about sepsis so they rushed him back to amputate the hand. That it would be a long and painful road, filled with pain and physical therapy, but there was no reason that he wouldn't be okay eventually.

The nurse told her that she should try to eat, having noticed Emma’s diminished appetite, but she still wasn’t hungry, even less so knowing that Killian was losing his hand. The same hands than had not only brought her pleasure, but the hands he used to build his boats. Would he still be able to do that? To do something that had brought him back to life after losing Liam?

She couldn’t stay there in that quiet room, letting her thoughts consume her any longer.

“I- uh. Do you have a computer I can use.”

The nurse tilted her head, looking at her. Emma could feel the woman’s judgement. See it written all over her face. Or maybe she just thought she did.

“We have public computers in the library on the third floor. If you go back to the main entrance and take those elevators it’ll take you directly to it.”

Emma thanked her, making her way slowly to the front of the hospital, stopping outside long enough to get some fresh air. The storm had passed, leaving over a foot of snow in its place. The hospital had clearly plowed the entrance, but she could see much of the parking lot was still buried. Her car was likely trapped under a mountain of snow, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it. She’d called out sick from work, vaguely telling David that she just didn’t feel well. Surprisingly he hadn’t pushed the subject. Eventually she’d either have to return home or tell him the truth, but that could wait one more day.

The chill from the cold winter air began to set in around her. Looking at her watch, she realized she’d only been outside for less than ten minutes. That it would still be hours before Killian was out of surgery. The library was just where the nurse had said it would be. It was larger than she expected, finding that it encompassed at least three stories. There were display cases filled with medical instruments from throughout history, and models of the human body. Portraits lining the walls of what she assumed where medical pioneers. Stacks of books reminding her of her own college library.

The computer lab was in the back corner. A sign stating public hours were from seven to five. With only a few minutes until seven, Emma sat down, figuring no one would mind if she started just a little early. She began checking her email. Making sure she wasn’t missing anything of too much importance. Her phone hadn’t had the most spot on service and getting a signal had been hit or miss. The only email that caught her attention was the invitation for Ruby’s birthday the next month. Then she pulled up a few gossip sites, seeing what all of the celebrities were up to.

But soon she ran out of ways to distract herself, and her mind started running again. Images of Killian invading her every thought. Imagining what his future would be like. Wondering what he’d been up to during their missing year. She hadn’t meant to, but her fingers had started typing without her permission, and soon she had a new website pulled up. Massachusetts State Public Records.

Four months. He’d been married for four months to a woman named Milah Gold. Paralyzed, Emma sat there, staring at the page before her, unable to look away. Four fucking months. Had she really meant so little to him that he’d moved on so quickly? Before she knew it, she was down a rabbit hole, looking up every bit of information she could find on Milah. She was a couple of years older than Killian. She was also a professor at the University of Boston specializing in Maritime Law. _Had_ been.

 

It was the image of Milah on her screen though that had Emma transfixed. The woman was stunning. Raven curls, ice blue eyes. It was easy to see why Killian would have been attracted to her. Milah’s facebook showed her to be adventurous. They were night and day. Milah appeared bold compared to Emma’s reserved facade. Fun. Mesmerizing. She was everything Emma wasn’t.

_  
_ She wasn’t sure how she made it to the cafeteria. Everything from the last hour a jumble. Her entire world had be turned upside down again. He emotions jumbled. She was on autopilot, grabbing a tray and ordering pancakes from one of the food kiosks. She didn’t even remember paying. Wasn’t sure if she even had paid. The pancakes sat long cold on the table before her as she became lost in thought once more. 

 

* * *

 

 

_The next morning she woke to the smell of coffee and pancakes, but a cold and empty bed. Looking around, she remembered that her own clothes we scattered around his apartment, so she grabbed his favorite shirt from his dresser. A Matchbox Twenty t-shirt he’d bought as a teenager. One that no longer fit him but he refused to part with. One that always made his eyes sparkle with mischief when he saw her in it._

_He hadn’t turned around but he must have heard her coming. The wood floors always creaked when she tried to surprise him, giving her away._

_“How many pancakes would you like love?”_

_“Who said anything about me wanting food?”_

_With that he finally turned, taking her in. His eyes lingering on her bare legs for a second before catching sight of the faded old shirt she was wearing. A smile breaking across his face, the pancakes long forgotten._

_“You’re going to burn them.”_

_He stepped closer to her, mischief written all over his face._

_“Screw the pancakes. They’re just from a box. I can always make more.”_

_And then he kissed her as if his very life depended on it. His hands slipping under the shirt only to realize that she hadn’t put on any underwear. There was a feral growl on his part, but before they could go any farther they were interrupted by the smoke alarm just above the stovetop. With a few muttered curses, he left her to deal with the mess he’d created, trying to disperse the smoke with a tea towel, before giving up entirely and nearly ripping the alarm off the wall._

_She’d laughed and he’d feigned offense. It had been perfect. They hadn’t discussed their declarations from the night before, but they didn’t need to._

_Once the smoke had cleared, Emma grabbed the bowl of remaining batter, along with a fresh pan and began setting about making new pancakes, minus the char. Killian cleaned and scraped the old pan as she worked, mumbling that it might be ruined now. She’d just flipped the third pancake when she felt him behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders as the pan in front of her sizzled._

_Everything was perfect._

 

* * *

 

 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, massaging the tense muscles. It felt so real.

Then she heard her name in an accent that was close, but just not quite right.

“Emma?”

Snapping out of her daydream, Emma looked up to find Graham standing right behind her. Mary Margaret and David stood across the table from her, worry obvious in their eyes.

“What- What are you guys doing here?”

“The storm passed,” Mary Margaret began. “We wanted to check in on him so we all drove up. We thought you were sick though so we were just going to let you sleep. I’m actually really surprised to see you here given…”

Mary Margaret may have trailed off, but Emma knew the way the sentence would have ended. _Given the way things ended between you two_. Her friends had never known the truth. That they’d broken up. But they did know that Killian had basically left in the middle of the night without so much as a word to any of them. That he’d left his best friend all alone and heartbroken for their friendship. It was the same reason they hadn’t asked her to join them the first time.

“But if you’re all here, who’s watching the station?”

This time it was David that cut in.

“Emma, Storybrooke isn’t exactly a mecca for crime. Leroy is on standby if anyone needs something, but I really think the town can last a day or two without us.”

She nodded, still stunned by their presence.

“Emma,” Graham squeezed her shoulder again. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming down here? I would have come with you.”

And there it was. She hadn’t told them that she was coming, not ready for all of the questions. How could she tell the man that she was still dating that she was terrified that the love of her life would die? How could she explain why she was there without giving everything away?

Instead, she changed the subject, asking them if they’d heard the latest news. They of course hadn’t. Finding her in the cafeteria had been a complete coincidence. They’d left Storybrooke so early they hadn’t had breakfast themselves so they stopped by the cafeteria for a bite before returning to Killian’s room.

She recounted everything she’d been told about Killian’s hand. How they’d tried to save it but couldn’t. How he’d be in pain but they’d do their best to control it. That he could be fitted for a prosthetic once the wounds were healed. Some other things she hadn’t really understood.

And then she told them about Milah. She left out the bits about how she’d spent the morning researching her, instead giving the barest of information. Just that Killian had been married but his wife had died in the accident. Tears formed again as she told them, and when Graham hugged her, trying to console her, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. This man, so pure had no idea of the war inside her heart. She was the worst person ever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. It's me, Tragic. As I've said on tumblr, I was getting a lot of hate mail in my box when I started this fic and I just didn't want to deal with it, so I posted here under a different name for a clean slate. The hate mail has stopped (yay) so here we are, back under my name. Sorry for the long wait between posts. This fic got lost in my WIP folder.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never I guess...

 

They were in Paris, sitting in a cafe just down the street from the Eiffel Tower. Two glasses of wine on the table as they took turns sharing their food with one another. A feeling of pure and complete peace descending upon her. 

 

Things like that didn’t really happen though. Not to people like Emma. She should have realized that it was a dream right away, but part of her wanted to believe it. She’d had that same dream before, in happier times. The first time was just after Killian had finished something on one of his boats. There was a technical term for the way he’d sculpted the wood, carved into it, but she’d never bothered to really learn any of it. No, she’d always been content to just sit in a chair in his warehouse watching him work. Watching as the sweat beads rolled down his face, falling from his chin. The way his muscles flexed under his dampened shirt.

 

Watching him build his boats had always turned her on, even when they all went as a group to see his latest projects. He was an artist, his creations marvels. He was always so determined and focused, she and David would often have to drag him away. But on the days that she visited alone, she slowed him down immensely. Not that he’d complained. But that was in the beginning. Before she felt confident enough to let him sleep over. Instead she’d sneak a visit to him while he worked, letting herself become worked up in the process. They’d make love there. Sometimes on the couch he had in his office, sometimes on the deck of a boat that was barely large enough to fit one person. 

 

It had been exciting in a way. The newness of whatever they had. The knowledge that they could get caught by an unsuspecting client. On that day, he’d been covered in paint and she jumped him the second he was done. They hadn’t even made it to his office, barely grabbing an old sheet he used as a tarp to shield them from the cold concrete floor. He was insatiable, and she reveled in it. 

 

She dreamed that night. A tiny flickering of something as she curdled into his side on that tarp. It was she and Killian, in France. They toured vineyards, danced in their small third story walkup. They kissed and held each other without care. She was happy, and it terrified her, even in unconscious fantasies; the worry often ripping her stomach to shreds as she lay in bed after. She wasn’t lucky. She wasn’t the girl that got everything. 

 

Every night after the images returned, growing over the months they spent together, until one night when she dreamt they were married and panicked. She woke clawing at her chest, struggling to breathe. Killian had done his best to soothe her, but she was inconsolable. The walls closed in and she felt trapped by the pressure of something unattainable.

 

She tried to tell him that she couldn’t do it anymore. That she couldn’t keep seeing him. That it would all blow up in her face eventually and the deeper she let him in, the more painful it would be. She tried to end it right then and there but he wouldn’t have it.

 

They talked all night, yelled, screamed, fought. But he wouldn’t leave. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to cry in front of someone. He just held her tightly and promised her that he would never ask more of her than she was willing to give. He promised to never push her for more. That he would never leave her.

 

The dreams stopped after that. The terror that always accompanied them falling away as well. She hadn’t even thought about them in years. Not until she dreamt it again sitting in a chair in his hospital room. But this time, she was content. The rush of adrenaline, the quickened heart beats, the constricting chest. All gone. 

 

But it was all a lie. He did ask for more, and then he left. He abandoned her, moved on, and she was left with the dream, the nightmare. Trapped in her own mind, still able to feel his breath on the back of her neck as they danced on the terrace.

 

And then it was over. Shattered by the shreil beeping of his IV machine.

 

“Go back to sleep. I’m gonna go get a nurse to check on the machine and make sure something isn’t wrong.”

 

Emma blinked, trying to fight off the lingering vestige of sleep. To fight the heaviness of her eyelids. The beeping was intense and unabating. Opening her eyes a bit more, she saw a light flashing on the pump. Annoying as the sound was, it had done nothing to rouse him, something that worried her. He should have been up hours ago. That’s what the doctor said.

 

Mary Margaret and the nurse returned. The latter pushed a yellow button on the machine and the beeping stopped. She checked the bag hanging above it, and the lines leading to the machine, humming a little tune as she did so. Her fingers grazed down the line continuing into Killian’s wrist before she stopped, moving the palm closest to Emma a bit.

 

“Ah, I think I see the problem. The machine can be really temperamental and sometimes if you twist the hand a certain way it can set it off.”

 

Emma hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding his hand in her sleep. She must have pulled on it and messed up the needle.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine dear. Just try to keep his wrist straight.”

 

The nurse gave her a smile and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. She hadn’t realized how late it was until she saw how well lit the hallway was compared to the room.

 

“Where are the guys?”

 

“Oh, they went and got some rooms at a hotel down the street.” 

 

"Why are you still here then?"

 

She didn't mean for it to come out quite as harsh as it sounded to her ears.

 

"I didn't want to wake you just yet, so I figured I would hang around for a little bit. I guess I was hoping that he might be awake by now. I thought giving you the extra time to sleep might be enough, plus you look exhausted."

 

She felt exhausted. She'd barely slept since she'd arrived, and when she did sleep, it was only in small spurts, unable to get comfortable in that stupid tiny chair. The longest she'd managed was right before he got wheeled back for his emergency surgery.

 

"It is getting late though," Mary Margaret started back. "We should probably head to the hotel ourselves and get some rest. We can come back in the morning."

 

Emma's jaw dropped a little.

 

"Margs, I'm not leaving yet."

 

"Emma, when's the last time you really slept? And besides, wouldn't a bed be more comfortable?"

 

It would, but Emma thought her discomfort was a small cross to bear in comparison to everything Killian had been through.

 

"The chair really isn't that bad."

 

Her friend leveled her with a stare, the same one she often gave her students when the were being difficult.

 

"Emma, you're not good to anyone like this. Let's get some food and sleep. I bet Graham would appreciate spending some time with you. You've barely said two words to him since we got here this morning."

 

It was true. She'd been avoiding him as much as possible. She couldn't look at him, the guilt eating away at her. The guilt of having Graham there in Killian's hospital room. Of having Killian possibly waking up and the first person he saw being Graham. Of wondering if he’d be upset, or worse, if he wouldn’t even care having already moved on. Of knowing how much Graham cared for her and not being able to reciprocate in that moment. Knowing that if she went back to a hotel room she'd be forced to actually have a conversation with him. She didn't have the strength for any of it just yet.

 

"I can't leave him. I don't want him to wake up alone."

 

"Well then I'll stay and you go."

 

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her frustration back down.

 

"Please, Margs. Just go. I'm fine here, okay?"

 

Mary Margaret studied her for a moment, letting out a sigh, finally conceding. Before leaving, she wrote the name of the hotel on a pad of paper from the night stand. She promised to be by early in the morning with a change of clothes from her suitcase. They weren't exactly the same size, but having just won one battle, Emma knew better than to start another fight.

 

She waved her friend away and waited. She waited for what felt like forever. The sunlight outside faded completely before it was replaced by the harsh glow of street lights from the nearby parking lot. She waited as she listened to family members saying goodbye to the other patients. The changing of the late night show turning into an infomercial. She waited.

 

Another hospital staff member came in about an hour later to check his vital signs again, seemling unbothered by his still slumbering state. Emma smiled at him as he typed away in the computer he’d rolled in.

 

“I’m sure he knows you’re here. That he can hear you.”

 

His words had taken her off guard. She’d become so accustomed to the silence. 

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Well, there’s nothing to back it up, scientifically I mean, but I’ve been here for a while now and I’ve seen things. Patients that have loved ones talking to them tend to have better outcomes.”

 

“Oh, I’m not- I mean, we’re not.”

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

With a sad smile on his lips he left, not realizing that he’d left her heart imploding. She had been that once. A loved one. Then he’d left and found someone new. She was just a ghost to him now. The world’s shittiest ghost. The one dreaming about a man that had left her, crushed, while the world kindest man slept alone miles away. A man that loved her and deserved so much more than her traitorous heart could give.

 

“I, uh, I don’t know if you can really hear me or not. Hell, I don’t even know what to say. Not after all of this time.” Her voice caught and a lone tear fell down her cheek. “I guess I should tell you to fight. That’s what people do in these situations, right?” 

 

That’s what they did in the movies at least. They listed off all of the things that they still had to live for. Loved ones and kids and life goals. But he didn’t have any of that anymore, not that she knew of. His brother was dead, his wife was dead, days had passed and no friends had come for him other than her family and boyfriend. For all she knew, he was alone in the world. Then again, she _didn’t_ really know him, not anymore.

 

He was a stranger to her.

 

“Storybrooke hasn’t changed at all.”

 

_Coward._

 

“Someone tried to bring in a Starbucks last year. The wanted to set up right across from Old Lady Lucas, but everyone rallied around Granny to keep them out of town. Went all the way up to the mayors off. And Grumpy got his one year sober chip about two months ago. None of us ever thought we see the day. What else? Oh, Ruby and Victor broke up. We had a girls trip to Vegas to cheer her up, and I guess it worked because she came back married to a woman. I walked in on them in the shower last week. Then they asked me to join them.”

 

It was a cheap shot but a small part of her hoped the idea of two women lathering each other up in a shower might be enough to peak his interest. That he might shoot up and give her some of that infamous innuendo he was so well known for.

 

Nothing though.

 

“Okay, well if that didn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will.”

 

She gave his hand a squeeze before standing up to stretch out her back. Mary Margaret was right, night after night in that tiny chair had really done a number on her spine. Soon she was going to have to admit defeat. If nothing else, just long enough to run to the hotel to clean up. The hospital staff had given her some washcloths and soap but there was no replacement for a hot shower. 

 

Even as she excused herself, stepping into the bathroom to wash herself off one more time before calling it a night and settling in for another stretch of restless sleep, Emma felt guilty for wishing she was at home, in her own little apartment. Using her own shampoo and crawling into her own pajamas. She felt horrible for complaining to herself though. Not when Killian was about to have his entire life turned upside down. Assuming he ever actually woke up. 

 

There was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t happen. She’d heard the doctor talking outside. Rounding as they called it. They’d said his head ct had come back clear, but she’d seen things. Heard horror stories from cops in surrounding counties about how one minute a guy seemed fine and the next he was gone. She knew that doctors weren’t perfect. They made mistakes. For God’s sake, they couldn’t even save his hand. They couldn’t save Milah either. 

 

Milah. He didn’t even know. How was she supposed to tell the love of _her_ life that the love of _his_ was dead?

 

She turned on the water faucet and gave herself sixty seconds. One full minute to let herself fall apart. To let the tears fall and anger get the best of her. To let everything she’d been trying and failing to bottle up pour out.

 

When she was done, she turned the faucet off, letting her breathing calm. Looking in the mirror had been a mistake. Her face was puffy, eyes blotchy red. She was a mess. Plain and simple. Not that it mattered in the middle of the night when the only person around was fast asleep. In a coma, actually. Isn’t that what it was?

 

She had to fight off a new wave of tears thinking of it that way. She needed to shut her brain down before it got the best of her. If she kept up at the rate she was going, he’d be a ghost in her mind before she ever even left the bathroom.

 

Drying her face and trying her best to shake the thoughts from her mind, she opened the bathroom door and turned off the light. It was a struggle finding her way back to the chair, her eyes no longer used to the darkness in the room. She’d held her breath as she stubbed her toe on the foot of his hospital bed, not wanting to wake up other patients with her screams. It was fine, she didn’t really need that toe anymore anyway.

 

With the sting still running up her foot and leg, she grabbed the blanket she’d been using and curled back up into the chair. She’d only just found a position that didn’t make her want to die when she heard a voice in the dark.

 

“Who's Grumpy?”

**Author's Note:**

> I do promise a happy ending


End file.
